


Down the memory lane

by Shadow0kana



Series: With Fond Memories, Looking Forward [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fanart, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26408251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow0kana/pseuds/Shadow0kana
Summary: When you live for 6000 years, you are bound to hoard possessions. For Aziraphale, no gift from his darling demon is too small to keep.Crowley wants to take his angel on a date, but he can certainly spare some time.(Art in chapter 4 & 6!)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: With Fond Memories, Looking Forward [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974439
Comments: 29
Kudos: 65





	1. Mementos

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a fic anywhere. Please, tell me what you think in the comments!
> 
> A series of short fluffy chapters. I'll update every few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [@burnttongueontea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnttongueontea) for beta reading this chapter! 💛

The bookshop door opened with a flourish, and one very happy-looking demon casually strolled past the closed sign. Opening hours had always been more of a vague guideline anyway, not that he ever cared. Crowley was dressed to impress, a wine-red dress shirt tucked into tighter than usual pants. The dark rose in his hand was a nice touch, and he hoped he could catch his angel’s reaction…

… Only to be greeted by an empty room. The blinds were shut, and the lights were off, which was not exactly out of the ordinary, but Aziraphale knew he was coming. He should have been waiting for him. They had a _date_.

“Angel? Where are you?”

Receiving no answer, Crowley walked to the back. Aziraphale always tended to get lost in his books for hours on end. Nothing new there, even if it did tick the demon off just a little. He was on a schedule.

“There you are!”

The angel was sitting in a comfy chair, his winged cup set beside him on the table. Startled, he raised his eyes to Crowley with a bright smile on his lips. Crowley noted the double take with a grin. Seeing his angel blush was worth the time it took to squeeze into these trousers.

“I’m sorry dear boy, is it time already?” Aziraphale looked around, only now realizing that the sun had set some time ago. With a fond sigh, Crowley approached to kiss him on the cheek, the pale skin coloring under the soft affection.

“Yep. Got lost in a book again?”

“Oh! No, no not this time, I - oh, thank you, my dear! What a gorgeous rose, did you grow it for me?”

Crowley shuffled on his feet, feigning irritation. “Nah, just saw it and, you know, thought you’d like it.”

He hurriedly changed the subject, the adoration in his love’s eyes being too much for his poor demon heart. He glanced at the box on the angel’s lap.

“What’s that?”

Aziraphale smiled sweetly at the box, his hand gently caressing the aged metal of the lid.

“This… I suppose - you could call it a memory box,” he began, staring reverently down. “It contains trinkets, mementos, if you will.”

An eyebrow raised over the top of Crowley’s glasses. He took his place on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair, his curiosity obviously tickled. A small miracle ensured that their reservation would still be there for them. The angel had always been quite the hoarder, but Crowley had always assumed that it came from a desire to fill the space, and less from any actual attachment to the various knick-knacks that littered the entirety of the bookshop. Aziraphale was obviously very attached to whatever was in that box.

“Show me?”

With a glance up, the angel smiled softly. Carefully opening the lid, Aziraphale showed the contents to his companion. Leaning over, Crowley swallowed a surprised gasp, before letting out a smile.

“Mementos, eh?”

“Well, yes. Of us.” Aziraphale answered, bashful. He took a single gold piece from the box, showing it to his demon. “Do you recognize it?”

Crowley shook his head, prompting Aziraphale to start retelling the story.


	2. Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story behind the first memento is revealed.

Perhaps bringing him to Petronius’ restaurant had not been the best idea, Aziraphale mused while Crowley spat an oyster back into the bowl. A shame, really, he himself found them delicious, and he would have gladly eaten the demon’s share.

“I suppose it is an acquired taste,” he commented dryly, watching his colleague drown his wine.

The demon grimaced. To be fair, the wine was not any better.

“That’s not a taste I’ll ever acquire Angel. How you can stand that-that slime down your throat is...blehh!”

“Well, I happen to like it,” Aziraphale huffed. “If it is so distasteful, maybe you can choose a better place for our next outing? Something better for your, pardon me for saying so, clearly _unrefined palate_.”

“Yeahh... I’ll get back to you on that one,” Crowley said as casually as only someone trying not to fluster can. “M’not around for long.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale took a sip from his own mug. It really was terrible. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow at most. Job’s done. I was just taking the night off,” Crowley stood up. “I’ve already got a new assignment. I’m heading north next.”

“I suppose I’ll see you around, then. Do be careful on the road, I heard things were not quite as peaceful outside of the Empire.”

“They’re not much better in the Empire either.”

A gold coin was carelessly thrown on the table as the lanky demon turned to leave. “See you around Angel. Keep the change.”

Aziraphale watched him leave the restaurant, before slowly taking the coin in hand.

With a snap, it found its way into the angel’s belongings, on the other side of the city. In its stead, a few smaller coins filled Aziraphale’s hand.

It would be a shame to let all these delicious oysters go to waste.

———

“I can’t believe you kept that.”

Back at the bookshop, Crowley looked at his angel with amused exasperation. “It’s not like it was a grand gesture or anything.”

“Maybe not, but it was the first thing you gave to me,” Aziraphale looked at the aged coin fondly. “It was the first time anyone gave me anything.”

“You sentimental bastard. What else is in there?”

Putting the coin back, Aziraphale rummaged through the contents. What he found next had them both flustered.

“H-h-how the heaven did you get one of my feathers?!”

The angel looked away, visibly embarrassed by the question.

“Do you…remember those terrible few months of cold rain we went through in Scotland? I think...yes, I believe it was in in the early 5th century...” 


	3. Scotland

The rain had been falling for weeks now, and it looked like it would not stop for a long time. With a sigh, Aziraphale lowered his gaze to the scroll that was currently in his hands. It was not meant for his eyes, but a minor miracle would reseal it. He was getting desperate for something to read. Hopefully, the North would catch up on the writing quickly. The angel really missed the grand libraries of the Antique world.

At any rate, he had a job to do. The scroll was to be given to some clan leader further north, as a peaceful offering from a nearby abbey. Aziraphale had been skeptical, not quite certain this gift would be taken for its value. However, he had been chosen for the delivery and would see it done. Local politics were of no interest to him, but Heaven had _insisted_.

Just as he was getting up to turn in for the night, the doors opened, letting in a gust of cold, wet wind. Shivering, Aziraphale spared a glance to the newcomer, only to smile in surprise. He recognized the lanky form, made even thinner by the drenched clothes clinging to his body, and the mess of flaming hair that could only belong to one demon. Gathering his things, he made his way to Crowley, who was too busy arguing with the innkeeper to notice his hereditary enemy nearby.

“What do you mean, you have no room?” The demon gritted his teeth. “It’s pouring outside, I’m not stepping back into this – this-”

“Crowley I – Hello,” He greeted him with a smile. “If you need somewhere to dry yourself, I do have a room under my name.”

Turning to the angel, Crowley ignored the flustered human, who sagely decided to make himself scarce.

“Oh, look at that. An angel coming to the rescue of a demon,” he raised an eyebrow at him. “Not an everyday sight.”

“Oh hush. Doing good deeds is my job, you know. A – a-and so is keeping an eye on you!” Aziraphale stammered. “I’m actually thwarting you, and any demonic work you could have scheduled for tonight.”

Rolling his eyes behind his dark lenses, Crowley waved his hand in the general direction of the stairs.

“Lead the way Angel,” he said, ignoring his companion’s excuses. “I just want to get out of these wet clothes.”

Once they settled into the rented room, Crowley quickly waved his clothes dry.

“Satan, you have no idea how uncomfortable that was.” Crowley sprawled on the bed. “I can’t believe I got caught flying in this blessed rain…”

Aziraphale rose from where he was putting his scroll away, startled.

“Flying? Do not tell me you really…! Your wings must be in an awful state!” 

“Yeah, well…”

The angel sat beside the demon on the thin hay mattress with an expectant look.

“What?”

Aziraphale motioned to his wingless back. “Do get them out! They must itch dreadfully.”

“Wh – what – eh – w – well-”

After some coaxing, they both settled on the bed, Aziraphale gently working the ebony wings in some sort of order.

“Can’t believe I’m letting an angel preen my wings…” Crowley grumbled.

“If you want to make it right, you can do _mine_ after.”

The string of strangled sounds was barely covered by the angel’s amused chuckle.

———

Aziraphale put the sleek feather back into the box, chuckling slightly at his dear demon’s crimson blush.

“Ngk – Yeah, I remember now. That was...” Crowley started, before a hand covered his, where it rested on his knee.

“Quite the night, yes, it was. In fact, we kept that room far longer than we should have.

They rested in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, both immortal beings lost in thoughts of the past.

“Should we get going?” Aziraphale finally asked, his eyes twinkling with unbridled affection. “We do have plans for the evening.”

“We got some time. What’s next down the memory lane?”

Aziraphale searched the box for a bit, humming to himself as he looked for the most significant trinkets. With a fond sigh, he presented his new find to Crowley. He held a pair of yellowed pieces of old paper. Whatever had been written on them was slowly disappearing.

“I have no idea where this comes from. Play tickets?”

“Yes, from the very beginning of the eighteenth century.” Aziraphale recalled, gazing softly at the aging tickets. Fortunately, they knew better than to crumble into dust, old age be damned.

“You’ll have to remind me.” Crowley frowned. “We watched too many plays Angel.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say too many, but this one, well... It was our first _real date_.”


	4. Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there's French. 
> 
> Look, I have to find a use for that literature degree somehow.
> 
> Now with art!

“I cannot believe anyone in their right mind would agree to having a part in this – this...!”

The angel was steered to the side by a helpful hand, avoiding a collision between him and a small cart. Aziraphale tended to forget his whereabouts when theatre was involved, no matter his opinion on the play in question.

“I think it was brilliant. That was a fantastic leading female role, you can’t deny it.”

With a pout, Aziraphale glanced at his demonic counterpart. It is not that he disagreed with Crowley; female roles were finally straying from the overdone _damsel in distress_ and _wronged lover_ roles. The author being a woman was not a problem in his eyes either. If anything, the angel thought it was about time that women finally found their place in the theatres. But no matter how _avant-garde_ this French play was claiming to be, he could not forgive the lousy changes in historic facts.

“You know it’s not that my dear,” he started. “And Arrie was played by a remarkable comedian – I am quite fond of dear Héloïse, as you know – but the whole intrigue is so far from the original story! I fail to see how making her Pétus’ lover instead of his wife makes any sense, and...!”

Crowley rolled his eyes, listening to the angel’s rant. He knew he was not as irritated as he let on. The tragic event in the fifth act had left a few tears on the angelic face, and no matter how he whined about botched storytelling, Aziraphale was completely enamored with the strength of Marie-Anne Barbier’s Arrie. Crowley had heard his moved sigh as the actress recited her second act parts.

“You loved it,” he teased. “I know you did. You are far too fond of tragic love stories. The poetry was flawless, you said so yourself.”

“Yes, well...”

The demon kept talking, gently guiding the pouting angel across the city to the small restaurant they had agreed on.

“And I know you will be gushing about the rendition the second you see _Mademoiselle Barbier_ at...whichever _Salon_ you met the blessed woman.”

“I suppose I – that is, I don’t think – oh stop teasing dear!” 

As he was lightly pushed toward the door of the charming eatery, Aziraphale ignored the demon’s amused smirk and huffed his displeasure. Of course, Crowley was right. He would be praising the young woman for her ingenuity the moment he would see her again at lovely Miss Chéron’s _Salon_. Was his behavior really this predictable? Crowley was certainly the only being in creation who knew him this well, and the thought did rather strange things to his fluttering heart. Refusing to dwell on such ridiculous notions, Aziraphale shifted his focus to the delightful assortment of _petit fours_ that his darling demon had already ordered for him.

———-----------------------

“I... I don’t remember about that one.”

Raising an eyebrow, Aziraphale turned on his seat to give the demon a pointed look.

“H – hey! Look we – we went to so many of these – you can’t expect me to remember all of them!”

With a small disappointed sigh, the angel carefully placed the tickets back into his precious box. Crowley had a point. They had been to countless plays together, and if Aziraphale treasured every single memory of their outings, he could not hold it against the demon if some of them escaped him.

Still, it had been their _first date_.

“N – ngk – Angel, don’t be like that.” Crowley leaned over him to plant a kiss on his curly hair. It seemed to lighten Aziraphale’s mood, and he was rewarded with a small smile. “Show me another.”

Without a word, the angel unfolded a piece of fabric. It was surprisingly well kept, a simple spotless black handkerchief. Aziraphale caressed the soft treads lovingly.

“This one you – you will remember this one.”


	5. London

Aziraphale held back a sniffle when he heard the knocking.

Right. With everything that just happened, he had completely forgotten to meet the demon at the time they had agreed on. Furiously wiping his eyes, the angel stood from his chair and walked to the door. When he opened it, a worried looking Crowley faced him.

“Angel!”

“Ah, please forgive me, dear boy,” Aziraphale sent a tight smile in his demonic counterpart’s direction. “I was just about to meet with you, you see, but Gabriel came down for a surprise visit, and –”

“You alright?” cutting him, Crowley quickly looked him over. A flustered angel was not an unusual sight, but every time one of the wankers came to _visit_ , it always left Aziraphale in a panicked state. It was almost a good thing they mostly ignored the Earth-bound angel, no matter how condescending that was.

“Oh, eh, y – yes, of course. But it – I mean, if we could…”

Crowley looked around quickly, before gently squeezing past the angel to enter his temporary home. They had both been living in London for quite some time, but Aziraphale loved to move around every couple of years. With a nervous tremble, Aziraphale let himself be led back to his old chair. A snap later, a warm cup of tea was pressed into his hands as the demon took place across the small table.

“Out with it Angel. What did he say this time?”

Of course, Crowley would jump straight into the subject at hand, Aziraphale mused to himself, he would not let it go.

“It’s, ah - I’ve been…reprimanded,” he sipped his tea, avoiding Crowley’s eyes.

“Reprimanded?”

“Yes…they – oh Crowley! He said I had to stop getting involved with humanity!” Aziraphale blurted out. Without his consent, tears started to well up in his eyes. “Outside of my assignments… T-too many unsanctioned miracles, he said.”

“Angel…”

“I don’t – what am I supposed to do, Crowley?” the angel hid his face in his hands. His distress tugged at the demon’s darkened heart. “I-I-I only ever wanted to – to help! A-and now I can’t!”

With a frustrated sigh, Crowley leaned over the table, taking Aziraphale’s arms to tug them away from him. Sad blue eyes met his, and he bit back his irritation. An angel he may be, Aziraphale had been away from the host for so long, the cold and harshness of Heaven always seemed to have a greater effect on him than it should.

“S’alright Angel,” Crowley produced a fine handkerchief from the ether and offered it to his companion. “You can’t expect them to understand what it’s like here.”

Taking the black piece of fabric, Aziraphale dried his tears, a few sniffled punctuating his words. “He was right – I mean… it’s just – it’s not the first time, of course, that I’m told to ease up on the miracles, as you know, but it – that is, oh darling! This is going to be awfully boring…!”

Rolling his eyes, Crowley got up, stretching his back.

“They’ll forget soon enough,” he started. “They always do. Just keep a low profile and they’ll be off your back in no time.”

“But what should I do in the meantime?” Aziraphale pouted. “It – it could be years before they raise my quotas again…!”

With a teasing smirk, Crowley reached down to pull on his arm.

“Guess you’ll have to find yourself a hobby Angel,” he teased, loving the way Aziraphale’s face started to lighten up. “But right now, you and I have a date.”

Aziraphale discreetly slipped the handkerchief in his pocket, before happily taking Crowley’s arm and letting himself be taken away. He could always count on his darling demon to make him forget Heaven’s dreadful visits.

“We best get a wiggle on then!”


	6. Closing the box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to close the box! They have a date after all!

Crowley was looking intently at the handkerchief. Of course, he remembered that night. His selective memory made him remember vividly every single time his angel had been unhappy, every time Heaven had left him in tears. Somehow, that moment had stuck with Aziraphale too. Crowley would never admit it, but the fact that his angel had kept such an insignificant thing, from a moment that, quite frankly, had not been a happy memory per se made his chest tighten. Not that he would ever admit it.

“Angel…”

“I know it’s not very important, a – and you have given me so much more, but…” the angel started. “It meant a lot to me. You always knew better than I did how unhappy I was with Heaven. All these millennia, you were there for me, you comforted me, protected me from their harshness the best you could – protected me from myself too…yet you – you have never pressured me to leave them.”

“I did, a few years ago.”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale started. “But I believe that the apocalypse could be considered extenuating circumstances, so to speak.”

With an eye roll and a fond smile, Crowley looked down into the box. It was filled to the brim with so much of their history. Small moments in time carefully kept together and cherished by the one being in creation that meant everything to the demon. His heart swelled.

“What do you say we keep the rest for another night.” Crowley coaxed. “You and I have a date, Angel, and I think we are late enough as it is.”

Beaming, Aziraphale lovingly put the handkerchief back into the box and closed the lid. He wanted to show them all to his demon lover, all these small trinkets kept preciously regardless of their perceived value. With one last caress, he went to put it back on top of a shelf, willing the dust to stay away from his precious mementos.

“Let’s get a wiggle on my dearest,” the angel quickly walked to the door, eagerly putting his coat on. “I am rather eager to see where you are taking me!”

The demon followed closely, snapping the door locked behind them. He herded his lover to the Bentley, even opening the door for him. He could barely keep his hands from trembling now that his mind was back in the present. The night had to be perfect. Nothing less for his sweet angel.

“Oh, thank you!”

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Crowley couldn’t stop himself from taking his companion’s hand to press a kiss to it. He quickly let go to adjust his sunglasses, the full strength of Aziraphale’s smile being a bit too much for his demon sensibilities.

“You never did tell me where we are going.”

“It’s a surprise Angel,” Crowley started the engine with a bang, tearing down the street. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Hopefully, he thought as his hand discreetly brushed over the small velvet box in his pocket, his angel would appreciate having another memento to add to his collection.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was my first published fic, and even though it's pretty short, I'm really proud of finishing it. :)


End file.
